


A Walled City

by Chocolatpen



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Corruption, M/M, Multi, Post-Apocalypse, Secret Police Force, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 19:52:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11996817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolatpen/pseuds/Chocolatpen
Summary: The City - a sprawling labyrinth of life that is surrounded by walls as tall as they are impenetrable. As the population suffers increasingly under the iron-clad grip of a ruthless dictator, the walls that were once considered protection from The Outside are now beginning to look more like an oversized cage.The lives of a certain few intertwine as a revolution brews in the bowels of the City.





	A Walled City

**Author's Note:**

> Had fun writing this! Kind of inspired by Ba Sing Se, because it's a majestic city if I ever saw one.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy this! Please do leave a comment and/or kudos if you do, and subscribe if you're interested in more :)

 

 

The city is quiet at night. As it should be.

 

Anyone who isn’t Kuroo Tetsurou might think otherwise – might think that the night air is far too still for the city to truly be at peace, that the fear once banished by daylight is now emanating from the darkest crevices like a stench too penetrating to ignore.

 

But Kuroo is grateful for the lull in activity, even if the city is sentenced to a slumber so deep he doubts it may ever truly wake up.

 

This is a delusion of his, of course, although he doesn’t know if it’s still a delusion if he’s never truly believed in it. The city never fails to wake with the dawn, and with it the chaos of this godforsaken life.

 

Heavy boots come to a stop under the working light on the corner. The outer reaches of the city have not had enough power for a long time, and the streets are as dark as the tall, crooked buildings lining them.

 

Kuroo pulls out his pocket watch, checks the time like he doesn’t already know. The seconds tick in his head like a steady heartbeat he just can’t ignore, almost like a countdown till- well, till he _can’t_ hear anymore.

 

Something like glass shattering breaks the silence.

 

It lasts only a second, a stark contrast against the quiet of the night, before all is as it was. A rookie mistake. It’s to be expected from someone so new to the organization, but it’s still a misstep that needs to be punished – alleycats are always silent, never anything more.

 

Kuroo hears Bokuto approaching long before he sees him; a haunting tune bouncing off chipped tiles and cobblestone streets.

 

“Nice night to be out, Commander,” Bokuto’s rough, lilting tone is sharp and cuts a clear path through Kuroo’s thoughts. The latter slips his hands into his pockets, gaze stubborn and straight even as the gray-haired doctor slinks up beside him with steps too loud and too careless.

 

“It’s never a nice night to be out.” Kuroo’s mouth barely moves; the words a hiss against dry lips.

 

The outer rings are slums at best and very dangerous for the wrong sort of people. Rickety wooden houses are stacked perilously on top of each other so densely that the light of day rarely succeeds in kissing the streets with its radiance.

 

Everyone here is scared of something, but the one thing they are all afraid of is the organization – eyes watching from dark corners, missing bodies, empty houses, and the shadows that dance in the dead of the night.

 

Only Bokuto, protected and carefree, would ever enjoy the outer reaches of the city. It’s his playground, after all, where he’s free to create his monsters from the people Kuroo’s men are ordered to dispose of.

 

A flicker of movement at the corner of his eye alerts Kuroo to Bokuto’s escort. It’s normally Hinata, loud and cheerful, chattering endlessly as he puts a bullet between someone’s eyes, but tonight Kuroo identifies the watchful sentry, perched on the roof of a building, as Sugawara – all silver hair and bright eyes and a kind smile to accompany the sniper rifle at his side.

 

Kuroo nods, almost imperceptively, in acknowledgment, and he receives a two-fingered salute in return.

 

“How many bodies will I be collecting today?” Bokuto asks, pupils blown so wide that black threatens to devour gold.

 

Kuroo glances at his pocket watch again, for no reason than to avoid the other’s manic gaze. “Three. A man, a woman, and a child.”

 

“A family, then?” Bokuto crows, excitement stretching his mouth into a wide grin. “Oikawa must be growing desperate.”

 

Kuroo’s eyes narrow at the loud declaration. It rings through the streets in an imagined echo, because Bokuto isn’t stupid, and he knows better than to let even Sugawara hear what he’s said.

 

But Kuroo knows the best, how the walls have ears even down here in the outer reaches of the city. They are his own, after all.

 

“Not desperate,” Kuroo finally replies, watching the shadows flicker and move. Finally turning away to face his long-time friend, the Commander cracks a small, twisted smile. “Just ruthless… as per usual.”

 

But Bokuto doesn’t smile back. Instead, the doctor steps so close to Kuroo their breath intermingles; noses almost touching. “Things are changing, Tetsurou.”

 

Kuroo’s eyes narrow, sharp and feline and cutting gold. Sugawara is watching them from the rooftops. “You’re treading on dangerous waters, Koutarou.”

 

The doctor holds Kuroo’s gaze for a second longer than usual, and then he steps back; features softening as he steps out from under the light. “When am I not?”

 

And then he’s gone, the light pitter-patter of Sugawara’s footsteps chasing behind him.

 

Kuroo sighs.

 

+++

 

“Commander.” Yaku nods in greeting as Kuroo enters headquarters; cheeks flushed from the cold. His second-in-command is more than a head shorter, but is always professional and ready for a fight. It’s how he’s gotten so far, and it’s how he’ll keep on surviving in as competitive an environment as the organization.

 

“The Haiba kid?” Kuroo asks, annoyance colouring his tone. He’d taken a walk to cool off after Bokuto’s confrontation, even settled some things in the outer rings that he’d been putting off, but he’d not once forgotten how Haiba Lev had almost fucked up the most important assassination of the night.

 

Yaku’s face darkens. “I apologize for what happened. He’s been punished.”

 

Kuroo hums, hands behind his back, as he plays with the anger seated deep in his belly. No, the Commander decides after a moment. What Haiba did slighted their name, and he will _not_ take it lightly. “Take me to him.”

 

As a police force operating under the direct orders of the Premier, the organization is a silent and effective task force charged with the duty of maintaining civil order. They’re the only reason why the city hasn’t collapsed into total anarchy; a terrible nightmare come true.

 

So it’s why Kuroo can’t let this slide. The organization is meant to be an untouchable force, and they wouldn’t be a single, cohesive unit if his subordinates keep making costly mistakes.

 

It takes a few minutes to get to the training yard – abandoned, at this time of the night, for obvious reasons. Yaku stands rigidly, mouth set, as the Commander approaches the figure lying lifelessly on the rough floor.

 

Haiba raises his head when he hears footsteps nearing; cheek dyed red from the blood – _his_ blood – that is pooling on the floor. Sneering at the recruit, Kuroo slams his face back down onto the ground with a hard stomp. He ignores the pained groan that the action elicits and leans his weight onto the boot digging itself into the boy’s cheek.

 

Yaku has always been fair in punishment, and this time is no different. The recruit has been stripped close to naked, beaten, and doused with ice water. As it is now, he’s been left to freeze in the chilly night air.

 

“I don’t give second chances, Haiba.” Kuroo allows some of his anger to slip into his tone. The commander releases the boy’s face in favour of kicking him in the stomach. “Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, sir.” Haiba’s voice is but a whisper.

 

Kuroo sighs. He’d wanted to take his frustrations out on the brat but it seems he won't make it if they don’t do anything soon - and one thing that even the organization faces is a lack of personnel.

 

Turning around rather regretfully, the Commander tucks his coat closer around his body and returns to the warmth of Headquarters. “Bring him to the medical wing, I don’t want him dying on us.”

 

Yaku bows at the waist in response – Kuroo doesn’t have to look to know.

 

+++

 

The Commander rather enjoys the sunrise.

 

The sunrise signals the end of the night; and therefore the end of the organization’s responsibilities. Iwaizumi’s corps take over in the day, and they do a mighty fine job of pretending that they’re better than their night-time counterpart.

 

Kuroo can tell that this morning, however, will be a horrible one.

 

“Ahh, Tetsurou. You’re finally here.” Oikawa’s voice is as pastel as his throne room, his smile as glittery as the gold lining the walls. “Come join us.”

 

Oikawa takes a sip from one of his favourite baby-blue teacups as he waits for Kuroo to cross the room. Iwaizumi is already there, looking the part of a knight in shining armour.

 

It doesn’t even make sense that he would, their uniforms are almost exactly alike.

 

“Sorry I’m late, got caught up in some… last minute complications.” The commander says as he approaches the throne. Slipping off his gloves, Kuroo bows lowly in greeting to his Premier and shoots Iwaizumi a sideways smirk.

 

“Well, it doesn’t matter now that you’re here.” Oikawa waves his hand dismissively as he turns his attention back to the scones resting on a porcelain tray.

 

Natural morning light filters into the cavernous throne room from the large balconies lining the walls. They overlook the inner circles of the city and their luxurious mansions; tiled roofs glittering like jewels under the sun. In the distance, tall walls loom down at the expansive mass of the city – impenetrable and intimidating.

 

Sometimes, Kuroo wonders why he still serves someone like Oikawa, wonders why he agrees to keep all these people caged up inside the walls of the city. He’d once dreamed of leaving and finding out what awaited on the outside, but he doesn’t think he will ever see that dream through in this lifetime.

 

“The people are restless. Even the Corps can feel it.” Iwaizumi reports, posture straight as a rod. His uniform blends in with the baby blue of the walls. Kuroo retracts his earlier statement, because Iwaizumi doesn’t look like a knight. He looks like a Prince. “There have been too many rumours about what is beyond our walls. They have become curious.”

 

Oikawa picks up his knife and fork – delicate things that might break if Kuroo tried to pierce skin with them – and slice into a piece of what looks like vanilla cake. “And what have you tried to do about these… rumours?”

 

“There has been no acknowledgment on my part.” Iwaizumi replies easily, with the confidence of a fool. “Our stance towards the issue right now is that life will continue as per usual, and that these stories are not worth paying attention to.”

 

Oikawa nods, and swallows, brown eyes focused on the last of his morning tea. “And you, Tetsurou?”

 

“Found a few of the fuckers in the outer ring, and we executed them last night,” Kuroo replies, eyebrow twitching slightly as he thinks about the events of the night before. “They’re smart. We hit a dead end with the last lead, but I’ve doubled our patrols for now and re-arranged their routes to fine-comb through the slums.”

 

Oikawa nods, satisfied. “Good job, both of you. I’ll expect you back here next week.”

 

Both Iwaizumi and Kuroo bow at the waist. “We live to serve.”

 

Oikawa’s smile is serpentine.

 

+++

 

"Come in," The commander utters distractedly at the knock on his door, but his gaze is alert as it snaps up to meet jade; lavender and mint flooding his office.

 

It’s rare that Kuroo ever visits Akaashi, and even rarer that Akaashi visits Kuroo, so the Commander is suitably taken aback when he sees the dark-haired boy standing behind Yaku.

 

Akaashi Keiji looks about as unimpressed as he usually does, green eyes narrowed and dull as a dead man's. It’s only his fingers; long and spindly and twitching, that gives away how nervous he truly is.

 

“What are you _doing_ here?” Kuroo demands once the door has slammed shut behind his second-in-command. Akaashi isn’t a part of the organization, and he isn’t meant to be at headquarters because no one is supposed to know where it is.

 

“I wanted to drop by to pass you this package,” Akaashi replies, mechanical. Kuroo can immediately tell that he’s lying. “Bokuto wanted it delivered.”

 

Bokuto’s packages are nothing new. They’re mostly evidence from dead bodies, sometimes accompanied by frivolous things that remind Kuroo of their childhood together.

 

But Akaashi’s hands are shaking, and his eyes are so cold there must be something hiding behind the façade.

 

So all Kuroo says is thank you, before he calls Yaku to the door and has him arrange an escort for Akaashi. The sun is about to set, and it’s dangerous for the boy to be wandering around at night – especially on this night.

 

After the disaster that was the night before, the Commander has been planning on striking the outer rings so hard, so soon they’d never expect it coming. It would get the results he’d promised Oikawa, and get his head off the fucking chopping block so Iwaizumi would never have the pleasure of separating his head from his body.

 

Glancing down at the small package sitting on his desk, Kuroo exhales. He pulls down the blinds before snatching it off the table, ripping off the parcel-paper – much too neatly done for it to truly be Bokuto – and pulling a single note from within.

 

The Commander’s heart plunges into his belly; a deep, hollowing dread freezing his soul. Crushing the note in hand, Kuroo rips the door open and meets Yaku’s widened gaze.

 

“Commander? You look a little-”

 

“Bring Akaashi back here,” Kuroo spits, cold shock replaced with fiery rage. “Now!”

 

And as Yaku sprints away, Kuroo returns to his office and sinks into his chair; hand cupping his forehead as it begins to pound.

_Sugawara is dead._

_Bokuto is missing._

_The walls will not keep them forever._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
